Impersonation
by mirror2mirror
Summary: What does it take to be noticed?


"Hey, Canada!" The young country in question looked up, seeing his more energetic older brother smiling, waving a large stick in the air. "I'm going to go around and explore. You want to come with me? It's going to be lots of fun!" Canada blinked, mildly surprised.

"Ah..." He shuffled, staring down at the grass. It reached up to his knees. "No thanks. I think I'll just stay here." He very strongly remembered America's idea of fun, and he didn't want anything to do with it, at all. He glanced around, hoping that America wouldn't be disappointed at his twin's lack of enthusiasm. As long as he remembered, it had always been this way. America would be all geared up for something idiotic and crazy, while he would just melt into the background.

"Oh. Okay then." Canada cringed when he heard America's voice. "I'll be back soon. Wait for me here!" And then, Canada could hear footsteps fading, and when he next looked up, he was alone, no America there, just himself and the breeze on the open plains. The sun was shining brightly, and the wind brought the smell of wild grass to his senses.

Canada sat down in the grass, and doing so, brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly. Why was he always alone? It was his fault, wasn't it? Never wanting to go off with his brother, and everyone always noticed America's outgoing nature. There was something wrong with him; it was impossible that he could be related to the confident and optimistic America. He was nothing like him. Sighing, he wondered whether it would be best if he disappeared. Then, he wouldn't be dragging America down with him.

"Hey, America!" Canada sighed; another person calling for America. Why couldn't he be called like that? He wasn't noticed, that's why. Who would pay attention to a kid just standing in the corner while his brother laughed and played in abandon?

"Oi!" And then, the voice was right over him, and he felt a large warm hand grab his arm. In surprise, Canada glanced up and saw the face of England looking at him, and he knew that the other country though he was America. "Lazy brat," England muttered, hauling Canada to his feet. "Come on, you haven't finished studying yet. What are you doing, running off like that?"

As England continued his muttering, Canada tried to explain, "But I'm not-"

"Yes, you're not done, and that's why I'm going to bring you back to my house; why can't you just stay still..."

Canada knew it was useless, and sighed. That was another thing about being America's twin: everyone always thought you were him. Canada brought up a hand to play with his hair, and England used his free arm to smack it away.

"How many times have I told you to stop doing that?" His eyebrow was twitching, and he looked really angry. "That's a bad habit." Canada blinked. America did that too? He never realized.

They were soon at England's house, and Canada was dragged in. England made him take off his shoes and socks, and then led him to the table where piles of unfinished worksheets lay. "You're not leaving the table until you finish this. Then, you're going to read this book to me," he pointed at a thin children's book that Canada recognized as the one America carried with him everywhere, "until you get it perfect." England turned, muttering, "Tch, always skipping English lessons. Ungrateful brat," and other comments somewhere along that line.

Canada blinked, still unsure of what to do. He picked up the pen, looking at the papers, slowly began to recognize letters. That was an O, right? The circle? Or maybe it was that thing, whatever America called it. U? Or, no, maybe it was a B. Canada pouted; he never learned how to write or read.

"Hey, why haven't you started yet?" England's voice floated over to him, and Canada looked up to see a very irate England staring at him. It was silent as England waited for an answer. _Maybe I can tell him now. But, I really want to learn how to read, _Canada thought. _Nobody wanted to teach me before._

"I forgot," he mumbled, hoping it would be believable. Was his brother irresponsible with his studies? He'd never know.

"Che, useless America. I only taught you yesterday, and now you've forgotten already," England huffed. He stomped over and pulled up a chair, sitting down beside Canada. Taking the pen and paper from him, England turned it over to the back and began scribbling something. Canada watched with interest, having no idea what England was doing.

"Here, this is A. It's a capital A, so that means it goes at the front of a sentence or a name, like yours."

"Huh?" Canada asked. His name didn't start wi- "Oh, right. Like mine." He hid the wave of sadness that passed over him; even if he was learning something useful, why wouldn't anybody realize that he wasn't America? It got so frustrating sometimes. No, all the time.

Most of the morning continued on like that, England teaching him the letters and him trying his hardest to memorize everything. He smiled when England praised him for his good work (nobody ever talked to him like that) but the moment was ruined whenever England called him by his brother's name. He would duck his head just a little, but never too much so England would being thinking something was wrong.

At half past ten, he was allowed to leave the house, his brain stuffed full of so much information that he was wandering about in a giddy daze. England used three hours of his time to teach _him!_ Him, the one always unnoticed unless it was to be confused for his twin. There was a warm and fuzzy feeling in his heart, and he held onto it with all the strength of his little body.

And that was where France found him, in the fields outside of England's house, half an hour to twelve. The older nation had noticeably brightened when he noted that Canada was alone.

"America!" he called. Canada looked up, still startled. It was France, striking a pose that looked vaguely disturbing and unnatural. "Why don't you come with me? I'm going to go teach you some lovely French!" And with that, he walked up and grabbed Canada by the back of his shirt, easily lifting the tiny boy and dangling him in the air. France cheerfully hummed as he followed the path to get back to his house.

"But I'm not-"

"Yes, I know England told you not to go with me but he's an idiot," France said, smile never leaving his face. Canada knew it was useless, and kept his mouth shut as France slammed the door behind him. "Over here, America!"

Canada toddled off, following France, determined. _Even if nobody knows me, I'm still going to learn the best I can. America's always getting all the attention, and if the only way to get people to notice me is to pretend to be him, I'll do it._


End file.
